Well, it's almost Ash Wednesday. I expect all those years of Catholic schooling paid off somehow, because, though I have trouble articulating why, I rather like Lent. I expect it is because Lent is sort of the linchpin of the Liturgical year, and I am fond of the idea of having a rhythm to time as I wander aimlessly through it. I am also fond of the phrase "in ordinary time", which is also part of the terminology of the liturgical year.
I always go to church on Ash Wednesday, whether I happen to believe in any particular deity at that moment or not. Which just shows that I am weirder than the whole College of Cardinals put together, as Ash Wednesday is not, as I recall, a Day of Obligation (that is a day on which one has to go to Mass). There is something satisfying to me about a ritual that has been going on essentially unchanged since the 8th century.
It's a much overlooked and disdained period of time, Lent. It is derived from a Latin word which means "slowly" and it is amoung other things about slowing down, taking stock, lying fallow. We do not approve of lying fallow, really, do we? We are supposed to be doing something, preferably somethign useful; and I find that the formality of Lent in some ways serves as a compensation for not doing that. Doing something relatively mindless and structured, fossilized if you like, satisfies the need to "always be doing" and is actually freeing. One may think about anything one likes during the Stations of the Cross; or about nothing. But for that short span of time, the need to decide about what to be doing has been handed over.
Probably it actually is the formality and ritual associated with the thing which makes it so disliked. But this does not trouble me a bit, as I also like ritual. I like the Stations of the Cross and I have been known to change churches because the Mass was beginning to uncomfortably resemble a prayer meeting. I have no problem with prayer meetings; but if I wanted one I would not be showing up for a Mass. I like the structure of a Mass, and I like its theater.
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7 comments:
Will you be sporting a dark spot on your forehead tomorrow?
A few years ago, I left a particuarly "fire and brimstone" Catholic church in an Italian neighborhood of South Philadelphia. The theater was okay, but I always had the feeling that at any second, the priest was going to pull "limbo" from the dark closet of embarrassment, and that's where I get up and leave. I later ended up with a bunch of Jesuits at Old St. Joseph's Chuch in Society Hill. I've been recently told by a another Catholic friend that the Jesuits are heretics...I think that perhaps this explains my affinity with them. Anyway, for a bunch of intellectuals, they put on the best show in town. I remember one Holy Thursday night service, there was so much incense, the smoke alarms went off. Father just kept washing feet. Anyway, I miss that church. I think that both Mulder and Scully could have found God there.
BTW, I'm thoroughly enjoying your blog.
Jozet:
I'm sorry you had such a bad experience with your church in PA. In all the years of going to church (and being Jeannine's mother means that's a LOT of years) all over this country, I--thank God--have never run into a church like you talk about. I have met priests I don't ever want to listen to again and services that are too boring to talk about but I can't remember being told from the pulpit that I was going straight to Hell.
One good thing about growing up Catholic in the Bay Area (where I am from) is that there was a Catholic church on every street corner and if you didn't like the 9:00 mass at your church, you could always go the the 11:00 or if the go to Hell message was at all masses at your church, just go to another church. It is one of the things I like about the Catholic church, look a little and you can find what you need from it. You are a good example of that--you found something within the scope of the church that works for you.
God bless you...Jeannine's mom
Jeannine's Mom:
Hmmm. You don't do email, but now you do Blog?(LOL) Almost,too complicated for me. And kind of too public for exchange of info, etc.
Jeannine's Dad
Jeannine:
Nope the email I just sent was again returned because (it says) you have exceeded your storage limit. Whatever that is....
Dad
Hi, Jozet,
No, your friend has it all wrong, the Jesuits kill heretics. See, they are really a secret order of Catholic assasins, responsible for the Franco-Prussian War, the Dreyfus affair, and the assassination of various popes and secular leaders who went afoul of doctrine.
Oh, no wait, your friend is Catholic, wrong rhetoric, sorry, I'm always mixing them up.
Does your pal say why they are heretics, or is it just a generalized accusation? Just curious.
Jeannine,
Well now, you know a lot more about the Jesuits than I do. My friend...well, I think that he probably would have gone into detail if I had allowed it. But it was New Year's Eve and there was a great bluegrass band playing in the next room...I had already allowed the conversation to get away from me by talking religion at all. This friend was newly converted and, let's face it, a bit righteous?...is that the word? What he needs a good dose of mellowing as brought on by 12 years of Catholic "sister" school. But now I'm curious...next time I see him, I'll ask. But only if I'm not feeling grouchy. ;-)
Jeannine's mom:
Thank you...yes, I have found a church I am somewhat happy with. And yes, the town where I grew up had four Catholic churches for about 4,000 people, so we also had our choice of flavors. It's amazing the subtle and not-so-sublte differences between a homily at the Irish-Catholic church versus the Polish-Catholic versus the Lithuanian-Catholic...although, I will say that the Lithuanian-Catholics always won hands down when it came to the annual block party: best bean soup and best bleenies (potato pancakes). :-)
Hi, Jozet,
Oh, converts, *sigh* say no more. It seems to me that God vouchsafes far more than a fair share of divine inspiration on the recently converted, please see St. Paul.
Who could have used a few years of mellowing as Sr. Karen Marie's pupil, it seems to me.
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